“I don’t want her to wake up alone, not after what she went through.”
“What are you doing?”
“Reports.” Stella closed her laptop.
“We wouldn’t want your paperwork to be late,” he teased.
“I like to get the facts down while their fresh in my head.” She stretched her arms over her head. Stiffness gripped her back muscles.
‘“What happened to Josh?”
“Treated for a broken nose and arm at the ER.” She checked her phone screen. “He’s being processed at the jail.”
“I wanted to kill him.”
“I know.” She took his hand. “I’m glad you didn’t. Not because I would have thought less of you. Josh deserves to die for what he’s done. But I wouldn’t want you to bear that load for the rest of your life. You’ve carried too much guilt for too long. You are a good man. It’s time you saw that in yourself.”
“How did I get so lucky that you’ll even give me the time of day?” Mac leaned over to kiss her. No quick peck, but a slow and tender gesture that had her heart stuttering. “I love you, Stella Dane. Words can’t describe how much.”
“I love you, too.” She touched his cheek, tears shining in her eyes.
Mac glanced at Gianna.
Her eyes were open. Her mouth curved in a sleepy smile.
Stella reached for her hand, gently covering it. “How do you feel?”
“Alive.” Gianna shivered. “More alive with hottie here.”
Gianna was a survivor.
Stella stood, unfolded the blanked draped across the bottom of the bed, and drew it up to the girl’s chin. “You rest. I’ll stay with you tonight.”
Gianna shook her head. “Are you freaking kidding me? You should be spending the night with him.”
“I can stay tonight, too,” Mac said. “I’m not leaving either one of you alone.”
“You can both go home.” A voice said from the doorway. Stella’s sister, Morgan, came in. “I’ll stay with Gianna tonight.”
“No one needs to stay with me.” Gianna waved. “I’m an adult.”
They ignored her.
“And when she gets released, we’re bringing her home with us.” Morgan set a closed umbrella in the corner and unbuttoned her raincoat.
Gianna’s mouth dropped open, seemingly unable to come up with a smart-alecky retort.
Morgan moved a chair from the empty side of the room. “Grandpa and I discussed it. She needs to get healthy so she can get that new kidney. Our house is the best place for that to happen.” She smiled at the teen. “And I can probably help with the paperwork.”
From the fierce gleam in Morgan’s eyes, Stella had the feeling she had more planned than helping Gianna with paperwork. Good. Morgan needed something positive to focus on.
A tear dripped down Gianna’s cheek.
Mac hauled Stella to her feet. “Thank you, Morgan. As much as I was willing to sleep in that chair, a shower and a bed would be heaven right now.”
Stella leaned over Gianna and kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Gianna gripped her hand. “I don’t know what to say.”
Mac laughed. “You’re a smart kid. Say yes.”
“OK.” Sniffing, Gianna reached for a tissue from the box on her tray.
“Get some sleep.” Stella straightened and followed Mac from the room. “Have you decided what you’re going to do about Freddie? I assume the contract on your life is still out there.”
“No reason to think he’s cancelled it, but it won’t matter soon. I gave the information about his camp to the local DEA office. They’re planning a raid ASAP. They’ll move fast on it. That should take care of Freddie.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist, and Stella rested her head on his shoulder. She couldn’t get enough contact with his body. It was as if her mind needed more reassurance that he was alive.
They turned into the hallway. Lance was sitting in a chair in a waiting area.
“Can you give me one minute?” she asked Mac.
“Sure.” He moved toward the elevator.
“Why are you here?” Stella asked Lance.
“I drove Morgan.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I heard Horner got his hair wet.”
“He did.” Stella noticed her boss also made sure he’d appeared on camera in his body armor, but he’d still surprised her. That night was the first time she’d seen him not behind a desk, mirror, or microphone. “Did you really quit?”
“Look, Stella. I can’t control my temper. Physically, I’m not a hundred percent either. I’m a mess. I can’t take the risk of another cop getting hurt because of me.”
“Go back on disability. Get better.” She touched his forearm. “You don’t have to quit.”
“I really do.” He met her eyes. His gaze wandered to the doorway, where Morgan straightened Gianna’s blanket. “I need—I don’t know what I need, but this is the first step in a long time that has felt right.”
Stella glanced back at her sister. “All right, but don’t be a stranger.”
“I have no intention of doing that.” Lance kept his eyes on the doorway. “I promised your grandfather I’d install some security cameras at your house tomorrow. The tech guys came and took theirs back. Art said something about trespassers.”
“Did he?” Stella wondered if Grandpa was still determined to catch the errant dog owner or if he wanted Lance around the house for another reason. Like Morgan. Stella wouldn’t put it past Grandpa to play matchmaker. He’d do anything to alleviate Morgan’s sadness. Stella only hoped Lance didn’t get hurt in the process. He had enough of his own troubles. She needed to have a conversation with her grandfather, as if she had any control over him.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow, Stella.”
“Bye.” She returned to Mac.
They went back to his cabin, took a long hot shower, and fell into bed. The storm had broken the heat. Mac closed and locked all the windows and turned on a fan. He tugged her into his arms. “For a guy who once royally messed up his life, I’m feeling pretty lucky.”
Stella stroked his bare shoulder. “You should.”
He kissed her deeply.
“I’m the one who feels lucky.” Stella rolled him onto his back and spent the next hour showing him just how much she loved him.
Chapter Forty-One
Monday
The sun shone with staggering brightness over the cemetery.
Grant, Mac, and four members of the local honor guard carried the flag-draped casket to the grave. Dozens of army officers and servicemen lined up behind the grave. Some had served under Grant. A small, older contingent had served under or with the Colonel. Craig and the crew from the shooting range stood in the back, their mixed bag of dress uniforms starched, their medals shiny. The sea of uniforms extended beyond the graveside rows of folding chairs.
They set the coffin on the platform over the grave. The soldiers saluted. Mac stepped back.
In a tiny navy-blue suit, Carson sat next to Hannah, a crumpled rose clutched in his fist. Ellie and her daughter filled out the rest of the row. Brody hadn’t been released from the hospital. A few rows back, Stella sat with some of the SFPD that had come to pay their respects. Mac took the seat on Hannah’s other side with the rest of the civilians, while service members stood and saluted.
As the firing party lined up for the twenty-one gun salute, Carson scrambled over Hannah to sit in Mac’s lap. When the shots retorted over the quiet span of green, they both jumped three times. “Taps” sounded over the silence, the bugle poignant and stirring.
Mac’s eyes blurred as the soldiers folded the flag with precision. Each movement rehearsed and perfect and exactly what the Colonel would have expected.
What he’d deserved.
He’d given himself to his country, body and soul.
The leader presented the tri-folded flag to Hannah. Mac didn’t hear the chaplain’s speech or Grant’s short eulogy. Memories of
his childhood flooded him, and he felt strangely calm.
The service ended and he stood. Carson tugged him over to the row of headstones. To the two that read LEE BARRETT and KATE BARRETT. Carson rested the flower on Kate’s grave, then turned and leaned against Mac’s legs.
Mac’s chest went tight and dry until he couldn’t swallow. Lee was missing so much. Carson losing his baby teeth. Faith learning to walk. He’d never see a first date or wedding or grandchild. Mac and Grant would fill in, but it wouldn’t be the same. On the other side of the Colonel’s open grave was Mac’s mom. At least they were all together.
Carson tugged on Mac’s pants. “Can we go now?”
“Whenever you’re ready.” Mac was more than ready to leave, but he hadn’t wanted to rush Carson.
The boy reached his arms toward Mac. He leaned over and picked him up. Carson’s arms tightened and Mac held him close. He’d do anything for the kids. Anything, even stand over Lee’s grave and relive all the pain of losing him as many times as Carson needed to visit.
Mac carried him back to the car. Hannah and Grant were waiting at the edge of the grass. Carson jumped from Mac’s arms and ran to Grant. Ellie joined them as they went to their car.
Hannah and Stella flanked Mac, each taking an arm.
“We made it.” Hannah wiped her eyes. “You all right?”
“I am.” Mac had finally made peace with his life. “Our lives were rough, but he prepared us. Got to give him that.”
Grant, Hannah, Mac, none of them would be alive without the skills their father had taught them.
Hannah snorted. “He did. If there’s ever a zombie apocalypse, we are so ready.”
One Week Later
Stella parked in front of Grant and Ellie’s farmhouse for a Fourth of July barbeque. The past week had her head spinning—in a good way. Sure, she’d had to type a thousand reports, but she’d been able to spend most of her free time with Mac.
In the passenger seat, he gestured toward the house with his splinted hand. “It might be nice to have a place like this someday.”
“Are you ready to emerge from the wild?”
He laughed. “Maybe you tamed me.”
“I seriously doubt you’ll ever be fully domesticated.” Stella reached for the door handle. “At least I hope not.” Remembering the night before, she glanced back at him, heat and humor filling her with happiness.
Flashing her a wicked grin, Mac opened his car door.
“But it is peaceful here.” Stepping out of the car, she breathed in the smell of freshly cut summer grass. The lawn surrounding the house was lush with green from the June rains. They’d just left her house, where Gianna was recuperating under the watchful eyes of Grandpa and Morgan.
“Uncle Mac! Uncle Mac!” Mac’s nephew raced around the side of the house and tore across the grass toward them. His large golden retriever loped at his side. The boy almost slammed into Mac’s legs. The dog slid to a stop and launched its body at Stella with a happy bark.
“Whoa, AnnaBelle.” Holding his splinted hand in the air, Mac caught the dog’s collar before she took Stella out at the knees. “Sit.”
Stella stroked the dog’s soft head. “Such a pretty girl.”
Wiry, tan, and covered in grass stains, Carson was a mini-Mac. Mud splattered the bare legs and feet that stuck out from under his black athletic shorts. A dinosaur, and something that might have been ketchup, decorated his T-shirt.
Carson squinted at her. “I know you. You work with Brody. You’ve been here before, and you were at my grandpa’s funeral.”
“I was,” Stella said.
“Look what I found!” He thrust his hand toward her. A small snake hissed in her face.
“Ah.” Stella started, falling backward and landing on her butt in the grass. She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart protested the shock, and pain shot through her hip where she’d landed on a rock.
Mac extended a hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet.
“Are you OK?” Concern—and humor—lit his eyes. He was pressing his lips together, as if trying not to laugh.
She rubbed her throbbing hip.
Carson’s smile dimmed, his gaze dropped to the ground, and he deflated. “I’m sorry, Uncle Mac. I didn’t know she was scared of snakes. Aunt Hannah isn’t.”
“It’s OK, buddy.” Mac squatted. “You didn’t know.”
“I’m fine,” Stella reassured him. “I’m not scared at all,” she lied. “Just surprised.”
“Let’s see that snake.” Mac reached out and took the creature. It was about two feet long, with a slender body decorated in orange and white stripes.
Instead of hissing at Mac, the snake wrapped its body around his tanned hand and forearm.
Smart snake.
“What a beauty,” Mac said.
Carson stroked the snake’s head. “He likes you.”
“He likes my body heat.” Mac held the snake toward Stella. “Want to pet him?”
She didn’t. Not. One. Bit. But the pride on Carson’s face made her feel like a slug for frightening him. This little boy had lost both his parents the year before. The least she could do was make him happy. And Mac’s grin was challenge enough.
“He’s not venomous,” Carson encouraged. “We only have three kinds of venomous snakes in New York: timber rattlers, copperheads, and the . . . What’s the other one, Uncle Mac?”
“Massasauga.”
“Right.” Carson repeated the name one syllable at a time. “This is a milk snake. He won’t bite.”
Stella plastered a smile on her face, clamped her teeth together, and lifted her hand. Where to touch it? Venomous or not, she wasn’t going anywhere near its mouth. She settled on the tail and touched it with just the tips of her fingers. The skin felt like bumpy plastic. It didn’t move, but she thought three strokes were enough to satisfy Carson. The snake hadn’t been moist or dirty, but she wiped her hand on her slacks anyway.
Mac grinned, then cleared his throat and worked hard to straighten his face.
“Can I keep him?” Carson gently unwound the animal from Mac’s hand. It immediately curled around his arm. “My friend Bobby’s dad has a python he keeps in a fish tank.”
“Do you really think he’d be happy in a fish tank when he’s used to living out here?” Mac gestured to the woods behind the house.
“I guess not.” Carson sighed. “I’ll put him back in the meadow where I found him after I show him to Aunt Hannah.” He gave Stella a knowing look that said she hadn’t fooled him. “She likes snakes.”
Mac smiled. “Good decision and definitely what’s best for the snake.”
“You said we shouldn’t disturb the e-co-system if we don’t have to.” The boy whirled and bolted for the woods. Barking, AnnaBelle raced behind him.
Mac turned and took her hand. “Thanks for touching that snake when you clearly didn’t want to.”
“Snakes aren’t my thing, but I didn’t want him to be upset.”
“And I appreciate it.” Mac stepped closer. “You don’t like spiders or snakes. Didn’t you spend any time in the woods when you were a kid?”
“No. I grew up in Brooklyn. We didn’t move here until I was a teenager.”
“I could teach you to love camping.” His gaze dropped to her mouth.
God, she wanted him to kiss her. “Maybe you can.”
A car door slammed, and Mac moved backward. Damn.
She never tired of him kissing her. She might even let him take her camping.
A minivan had parked in the driveway not twenty feet away. How had Stella not noticed? She’d been too focused on Mac, that’s how.
Grant’s fiancée, Ellie, opened the vehicle’s sliding door and lifted a wiggling toddler to the ground. “Ready?” she called to Mac.
Mac crouched and spread his arms wide.
Ellie released the child. Chubby legs churned as she sprinted for him. He scooped her up and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. Looping her hands aroun
d his neck, she returned the gesture. The front door opened, and Grant stepped out onto the porch.
“Down.” Faith wiggled, and Mac set her on the ground. The second her bare feet touched the grass, she shot off for Grant.
“Hi, Mac. Hi, Stella.” Ellie closed the van door. She held a reusable grocery bag in one hand. “Come on in.”
Mac reached for the bag.
Ellie shook her head and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ve got it. But if you don’t mind, you could round up Carson and hose him off for dinner.”
“We’re on it.” Mac said.
Ellie walked up the steps and disappeared inside.
Mac lowered his head and pressed his lips to Stella’s. The kiss was sweet and as warm as the sun on her hair. His hand settled on the small of her back. Gentle pressure urged her hips closer to his.
“Ew.” Carson’s disgusted voice broke the spell.
Mac lifted his mouth from hers, and the smile that spread across his face was full of promise. “To be continued.” He glanced at his nephew. “Without an audience.”
“Come on, Uncle Mac. Nan made blueberry pie, but we hafta eat dinner first.” Carson grabbed Mac’s hand and pulled, leaning into the gesture with impatience. “We’re going to see the fireworks later.”
As Ellie predicted, the boy required a thorough hosing before they went inside.
“I’ll take care of this.” Mac led the boy to the side of the yard, where the hose lay on the grass.
Stella went up onto the deck.
Brody lay on a chaise, his bandaged leg elevated on a pillow but otherwise looking good. “The case is all tied up?”
Stella sat down facing him. “Pretty much. Forensics found more than enough physical evidence in Josh Randolph’s house. Photos of Missy and Dena. Detailed records of his so-called experiments with them. He designed each girl’s torture specifically to hone in on her personal weaknesses. He had counseled both of them. He used everything they’d told him against them. He turned Missy’s cutting against her, and broke Dena’s fingers like Adam broke her bones.”
“Too bad New York doesn’t have the death penalty.” Wincing, Brody pressed a hand to the bandage under his arm and shifted his weight.
“I read his notes. I expect he’ll spend the rest of his life in a padded room while doctors stare at him through a tiny window.” Stella shivered. “When we originally interviewed him, he said his brother had fought mental illness all his life. That wasn’t reality. Lucas was a star athlete and a top student. He had everything going for him. His death was an accidental overdose. Josh, on the other hand, struggled through his teen years. Clearly he was the one with the mental illness.”
Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls) Page 30